


Stubborn. Tiny. Ferocious. Infuriating.

by Galaxy_Collector



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: But Garcy brings it out of me, F/M, i don't usually write fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 03:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15698940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaxy_Collector/pseuds/Galaxy_Collector





	Stubborn. Tiny. Ferocious. Infuriating.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DownToTheSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownToTheSea/gifts).



The narrow escape kept playing over and over, in vivid detail, in Garcia’s mind as he held Lucy’s tiny frame against his. She refused to be carried, but he knew he should just be happy she was letting anyone help at all. Ms. Lucy Preston did not do weak, no matter the circumstances. No matter how many times you told her the opposite was true. Stubborn, tiny, ferocious. That was Lucy Preston. 

He couldn’t help but grit his teeth, though, as he thought of how dangerous her stubbornness could be sometimes. She’d almost gotten herself killed… again. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but it would have killed him too; in every way that really mattered. God, she was infuriating. Stubborn, tiny, ferocious, **_and_** infuriating. 

Garcia pointed her toward their makeshift hospital wing and she struggled against him, forcing him to stop at her room first. He sighed heavily, unable to keep his frustration quiet any longer. 

“What?” she huffed back, forcing them both to confront his silent tantrum. 

“You,” his only response, as he ran his hand through his hair. 

She steadied herself against the bed frame and leaned over. Her breathing was ragged, but she was breathing. It had to count for something. It would keep him sane. 

“Unzip me,” she whispered suddenly. 

He stopped the pacing he didn’t even know he’d been doing and crossed the small space toward her. His hands started to shake as he let his hand linger for a second on the exposed skin near the collar before working the zipper down. He didn’t know why this always affected him. They’d laid next to each other millions of times, with less fabric than this between them. 

Garcia made sure to keep his eyes within a safe perimeter as he moved backward again. He didn’t want to scare her off. He was useless without her. He would take her any way he could get her and right now she needed only a protector. Nothing else. He could be that. He had been since he’d come into this awful safe-house and the bunker before that. 

He heard the dress hit the floor with a soft thud and his eyes grew large as he faced the wall. He knew he should leave, she didn’t need to be saved from anything in here. Other than herself. He should leave. But his feet were suddenly made of a thousand pound weights. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. 

She sighed again and he knew that sound. He knew all her sounds. She was in pain. He didn’t hesitate now. Just moved toward her. Like he always did. He ignored that she was naked as he pulled one of his discarded shirts over her head. He smiled as he remembered how it’d gotten there in the first place, but didn’t say a word otherwise. This place was their haven from the world and Rittenhouse and even, when necessary, the rest of the team. They didn’t need to explain anything to each other. Not here. 

“Pants,” she commanded, snuggling further into his shirt. “The purple ones.”

“Yes, dear.”

She scoffed, but she smiled. That’s all he needed as he rummaged in her drawer. He heard the springs signal that she was laying down behind him and he narrowed his eyes. 

“You are going to see a doctor or I am bringing them to you,” he said, not turning around. 

“I’m fine, Garcia.” 

“Lucy,” he groaned, “Please don’t do this to me.” 

“I’m to doing anything to you.” 

“Yes, you are.”

His voice was gentle, but pleading as he made his point. He had a job and he wasn’t doing it very well right now if he couldn’t get her the help she needed.  He threw the shorts on the bed and stormed out of the room, unable to take it anymore. He was bringing the damn hospital to her.

Garcia stomped right past the living area, through the kitchen, and into the hallway that opened to several bedrooms. He pointed right at one of the two doctors that frequented their new home and then pointed back the direction he’d come. 

“Is she alright?” Denise asked, instantly aware of who would need help. 

“I’m pretty sure she broke two ribs,” he stated, not offering anything else. 

“She didn’t say anything,” Wyatt said. “I didn’t know.”

“You’d have to pay attention to her,” he retorted. 

Wyatt snapped his mouth shut and looked wounded himself, making Flynn instantly regret the words. They’d actually been getting along lately, but the anger always seemed to bubble right at the surface with Wyatt. Neither of them was going to be able to forgive the other, or themselves, if they couldn’t move past this though. 

Flynn walked over to Wyatt and put his hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“She’s trying to act tough. You know our Lucy.”

Wyatt gave him his signature cocky half-smile and nodded his head before he walked behind the doctor, Flynn bringing up the rear. Oh, Lucy was going to hate an audience. Now, it was his turn to smirk as he thought of this little version of payback. 

Never one to disappoint, Lucy looked outraged as they all filed in. He leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed, daring her to speak against him as the doctor checked her over. 

Wyatt jabbered away about the mission and what was next, in an effort to distract her, but it wasn’t really working. She put on a show for him, but Flynn knew the truth. She winced a couple of times and even hissed loudly once when the doctor touched something in just the right way. Garcia’s body moved without him giving it to permission each time. He gravitated toward her, just like every other day since he’d met her. He couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to. 

After she was given instructions about sitting the next mission out, to which she immediately rolled her eyes, Wyatt and the doctor left. He shut the door behind them and handed her the glass of water that’d been sitting out the night before. 

She shot daggers at him over the rim of it as she took her pain medication. He almost wondered if their normal, nightly routine was about to be broken because of how mad she clearly was at him right now. 

But, just like every night before, she scooted over against the wall and made room for him. He stripped off his shirt and vintage-style trousers, before falling in beside her. He flipped the switch over his head and she wasted no time in making a cocoon out of his arms. She laid her head against his chest and breathed him in deeply before her eyelids fluttered closed. 

“I’m not sitting anything out,” she said into the darkness. 

“Of course not, dear.” 


End file.
